Hunter Hunter
by Ramarama
Summary: Scott drives, Lydia tries to keep it together, Derek hates feelings, and Stiles can't think. Stiles has to think. Set in the immediate aftermath of 3x09.


"Stiles. Stiles?"

He blinks out of his daze just as the jeep bounces over a pothole, and automatically puts a hand on the dash to steady himself. Someone in the car is breathing loudly and quickly, harsh gasps over the grumble of the old engine. Lydia should be careful, she'll hyperventilate. He turns in his seat to look back at her, to tell her it's going to be okay, but Lydia is staring back at him with wide eyes, and her hands over her mouth. "Stiles?"

Scott blindly grips Stiles' shoulder tightly, steering with only his left. His hand is overly warm, werewolf warm. It feels wrong. "Hey, are you okay? Are you having a panic attack?"

Stiles thinks about it. If Lydia isn't freaking out, and Scott isn't freaking out, then the hyperventilator must be him. "Oh. I..." His vision goes a little blurry, and he thinks he might have said more but it's hard to hear over the pounding in his ears and he hasn't had one of these since Mom and oh God and he barely manages to yell for them to pull over and then he's heaving onto the berm outside the McDonalds, gasping and choking and he can't breathe he can't breathe _he can't breathe_. And then there are terrified green eyes in front of him and a warm hand on his back and Lydia presses his free hand against her chest and he just... stops...

She is watching him intently. "Just breathe with me, okay? Can you feel me breathing? Listen to me breathe." She takes a deep breath in, nodding for him to mimic her, then holds, then releases it slowly, breath gusting lightly over his face. "One more time, okay?" Deep breath in, hold, release. Carefully, she gets to her feet and leads him backwards to the car, loading him into the backseat without breaking eye contact or her soft litany of instructions. In, hold, out. The jeep rumbles back onto the road.

Stiles watches her chest rise and fall where her hands hold his, just under where the angry red ring around her throat is slowly turning purple. What happened to her throat? Something at school? The concert. The Darach. Their English teacher. His dad. Oh. His vision blurs.

"Stilinski! Pay attention to me!" Lydia sounds furious, but when he jerks his gaze up instinctively at her command, her eyes are wet and her lips are trembling. "Keep breathing with me, okay?" He nods. Breathing. Yes. In, hold, out. In, hold, out. Without glancing away from him, Lydia hisses, "What is taking so damn long, Scott? You drive like my mother!"

"I'm freaking trying, Lydia!" Another sharp turn and squealing tires, and the jeep jolts to a harsh stop. "Here, we're here!"

Stiles' door flies open and Scott is dragging him out of the car and half-carrying him across the parking lot because apparently Stiles' legs don't seem very interested in walking and Lydia is chanting at him to breathe and then they're blowing into the vet clinic and Dr. Deaton is pressing him down onto the carpet and his head down between his knees and Lydia is still telling him to breathe and he just... In, hold, out. In, hold, out. In, hold, out.

Stiles is focusing only on Lydia and the floor between his feet, but he can hear Scott and the vet having a furious whispered debate, which is annoying because he is trying to focus, and that's hard enough for his ADD brain on a good day.

The the door flies open again and he can hear Allison's voice, and maybe Isaac? And a lower timbre that's Mr. Argent, what is he doing there? But none of this really matters because there is a very important thing that Stiles is not thinking about and it is all he can do to keep his brain otherwise occupied. Because he _does_ want to think about it, knows it is important, that he _should_ be thinking about it, that in fact it is _vital_ for him to think about it, but that it is also vital for him to NOT think about it, because there is the very real possibility that thinking about this thing will actually kill him. And oh god something is really wrong this time...

Suddenly, everyone falls so silent that even Stiles looks up. Derek stands in the doorway, stubble heavy on his face and a hospital visitor's pass still clipped to his jacket so he must have come straight from Cora, and Stiles thinks about freaking out again, but then Derek meets his eyes for just a second and he... keeps breathing.

The Alpha sighs heavily and steps into the room. "I don't know where Je- where her house is." Misery is rolling off him so strongly that Stiles can practically smell it, and he without a super-nose. He doesn't think about the misery rolling off him.

After a moment, Dr. Deaton shrugs and the tension is broken. "She probably wouldn't go there now anyway. Her cover is blown. We need to find her lair." He gestures to Mr. Argent and Allison, and they turn towards the back of the clinic with Scott, but a roar of a motorcycle interrupts them.  
"Now who?" Isaac sounds more worried than annoyed and three pairs of claws run out, but then Danny Mahealani hops off the back of the bike and waves as Ethan roars off. He is carrying a sheaf of rolled-up papers, and strides into the clinic with a grin like he's totally done this before.

"Heard you were interested in my Physics homework?"

Lydia perks up, because while it might not be computational linear algebra theory, it's easily her second-best subject. But then she takes a look at Stiles and settles back, squeezing his hand.

He hears his mouth say, "It's okay, Lydia. I'm fine," because maybe if she isn't here he can go throw up in peace like he wants to.

She freezes, but then her mouth makes a little moue of annoyance, even if it doesn't reach her eyes. "As if you could keep me away from physics even if you wanted. Please, Stilinski, that is more lame than even you."

Stiles almost laughs, because Lydia-freaking-Martin, ladies and gentlemen.

But then Derek drops down beside him. "I'll sit. You go." Lydia hesitates again, so Derek lays a heavy hand on Stiles' shoulder and raises an eyebrow. "Go."

She goes.

Stiles drops his gaze to his hands, clasped tightly over his knees. "I'm fine, really."

Derek huffs. "Shut up, Stilinski." He tightens his grip, warmth spreading into the skin of Stiles' shoulder. "Just keep breathing." His eyes don't ring red, but Stiles can feel _Alpha_ in his voice, and even if Derek isn't technically _his_ Alpha, he still feels his lungs expand, hold, and then release.

Stiles breathes, the nausea fades, and Derek keeps his hand there.

After a while, he feels his brain start to turn back on, though it still instinctively tries to shy away from _Dad_. He tries instead to get his increasingly frenetic ADD thought to focus on the Darach... who is Ms. Blake, holy shit.

And he remembers Isaac's story of Kali's attack, of the hostage they'd used to bait Derek, and... _holy shit_.

Never a good communicator at the best of times, Stiles just hesitantly bumps Derek's shoulder with his own, and tries not to brace himself for the inevitable punch.

The Alpha shoots him a glare, but it lacks his usual anger, and after a moment, tips his head back. "I am getting so tired of this shit."

Despite his best intentions, Stiles snorts. "Welcome to my freaking life." And then he thinks about everything Derek is referring to, every person who has betrayed him, every time he has inadvertently caused something terrible to happen, and winces. "Er, sorry." But despite all previous encounters pointing to violent-death-by-teeth, Derek just shrugs wordlessly.

Stiles isn't used to sad Derek. They're not close enough to talk about this, they don't do feelings. But most of Derek's family is dead, most of his pack is dead, his little sister is in the hospital, and his uncle is legit crazy, so he probably isn't the best processor, regardless. Stiles gets more than enough feelings-talk from Scott, but that doesn't mean he A). wants to do it with the original sourwolf or B). is good at it anyway. So he just sort of shrugs out from under Derek's hand and shuffles over so their shoulders are pressed together, carefully not looking at the other man.

Derek doesn't say anything, but when he sighs again, it sounds like he's released every ounce of carbon dioxide in his whole body, and he doesn't move away.

After a moment Stiles says, mostly to make conversation, "You know, Peter offered me the bite once."

Derek's head shoots up and he actually looks completely flummoxed for probably the first time in the history of ever.

Stiles shrugs. "It was after he kidnapped me at the dance. As like, a 'thank you' for helping him, or whatever."

Derek is still staring at him, and Stiles flushes. "Obviously I said no." He looks down again at his hands, turning them over to look at his palms. "I wonder if we'd all be in this mess if I had said yes." He shrugs without looking up. "I could have made my dad believe me, and then he wouldn't have walked into that room with just a gun, and I would have been strong enough to get the door open, and..." He grinds the heels of his hands into his eyes. "He said there'd be a time when I'd regret turning him down."

After a moment, Derek shifts so his shoulder is touching Stiles again, ignoring his startled look. And for once, for this small moment in time, Stiles is glad of silence.

Half an hour later, everyone else is still arguing in the other room, everything still sucks, and the ticking of the wall clock is driving him nuts. He climbs to his feet, suppressing a groan as his tense muscles protest, and Derek gives him a questioning eyebrow but doesn't say anything and doesn't get up.

In the other room, they are all clustered around Danny's maps and calculations, with expressions varying from studied boredom (Lydia) to exasperation (Mr. Argent) to intense concentration (Scott). They all look up when he walks in, and Scott immediately crosses to stand with him. "How are you?"

His laugh sounds like nails on a chalkboard even to him. "Great, just freaking _great_."

Dr. Deaton eyes him out of the corner of his eye, but continues with what he's saying. "-so if we can discount the grounds around the reservoir-"

"But I don't think we can discount those! That's where the two betas went during the full moon-"

"That's too close to the school, she'll definitely have gone to ground farther afield, somewhere we aren't comfortable-"

"She has to stay on the current or she won't be able to make the sacrifice-"

Stiles doesn't recall slamming his fist on the table, but his wrist hurts and everyone is staring at him. "That's my dad," he says quietly. And then louder. "_That's my dad!_"

"We know-"

"No you don't! Heather was my friend and Tara was my babysitter but this is my _dad_ and we have to go and get him now, because I can't lose anyone else because _I don't have anyone else to lose!_" All of a sudden anger is welling up in him, filling him to the absolute brim. He's surprised to note that he's not shaking anymore, his hands aren't flying around, and his thoughts are in perfect crystalline order. Because wolf or not, it is time for Stiles to go on the _hunt_. "If you won't get him, then I will." He turns to Scott and holds his hand out. "Give me my keys."

Mr. Argent steps forward looking concerned. "Stilinski-"

Stiles clenches his jaw and keeps his hand out. "So I don't have any crazy superpowers or high-powered weapons. I don't care because at least I know what I'm getting myself into. My dad is out there with a freaking _dark druid_ and he has no idea what is going on _because I told him and he didn't believe me_." The silence is so complete Stiles can practically hear his heartbeat echo off the walls. "He is going to die if we don't go and get him right now so give me my damn keys, Scott. I don't care if you're my best friend, I don't care if you're a werewolf; if you don't get out of my way I will rip your freaking head off."

But before Scott can move one way or the other, a low voice says, "I'll take you."

Derek is standing behind them looking smaller and more tired than Stiles has ever seen, but the keys to the Camaro jingle in his pocket, so Stiles cares exactly 0% about that. He doesn't even say anything to Scott, just turns and heads for the door.

"Wait!" Allison moves out from behind her father, fastening her crossbow holster over her jeans. "I don't think either of you should be driving right now. Give me the keys."

Scott and Mr. Argent both make aborted grabs for her, and then look equally perturbed at the coincidence, and Stiles would laugh at that if he ever thought he'd laugh again. But Derek tosses her the keys and she plucks them neatly out of the air. "Lydia?"

Lydia is chewing on her lip and looking what would be termed 'unsure' on a lesser being. "I think..." she puts a hand to her throat and swallows, but squares her shoulders and lifts her chin. "I think that if I am really this banshee thing that Ms. B-" she chokes but goes on, "-that the Darach said I am, we should split up. I've found all the other sac-" her eyes dart to Stiles' "-the others, so maybe if I really try, I can find Sheriff Stilinski?"

Allison nods decisively. "Okay. We'll cover more ground like that anyway. Scott, you and Isaac go with Lydia in the jeep, we'll take the Camaro. Anyone find anything," she pauses to smirk, "-just howl."

Dr. Deaton smiles briefly. "Christopher, Daniel, and I will see if we can make any headway with the maps and stay in touch with you via more conventional modes of communication. Go safely, everyone."

And then Stiles is bursting out into the parking lot, with no idea how he's going to sit in the back of the car while _his dad is out there_, and someone grabs his arm and-

And Scott pulls him into the biggest hug his teen-wolfy body can manage, squeezing Stiles like it will keep him there, like he wants to squish their bodies together like the freaky Alpha twins do, like he's pouring a decade of friendship into one hug. It makes Stiles' bones creak. And then he pulls away, and looks Stiles dead in the eyes. "We'll find him, okay? I promise."

"You can't promise-"

"_We'll find him_." Scott, his stupid potato of a best friend, grips him tightly around the biceps - _open wound_ - and then he's gone, jogging after Isaac and Lydia, who sends him an unreadable look over her shoulder and climbs into the jeep.

And to his surprise, Derek climbs into the back without being asked. At Stiles' incredulous look, he rolls his eyes in true sourwolf fashion. "Get in the damn car, Stilinski. I thought we were in a hurry?"

Allison slides into the driver's seat and loads her crossbow, laying it across her lap angled for a left-handed grab. She adjusts the seats and the mirror until Stiles wants to scream, but then twists the key in the ignition and revs the engine like a racecar driver. She shoots Derek a look in the rearview. "Nice wheels."

He just reaches between them on the console and hits the button for the sunroof. Allison peels out of the lot, downshifting like a pro, and Derek carefully stands to stick his head out of the open roof.

"But you don't have anything that smells like my dad!" yells Stiles, already checking his pockets for some sort of memento he knows isn't there.

Derek doesn't even spare him a glance. "Who needs that?" His snort can be heard over the rushing of the wind. "McCall? Please. I can smell you, I can find your dad." He grins a little and his fangs run out. "That's why I'm the Alpha."

Allison laughs and speeds up, as they fly through the back roads.

Stiles grips the overhead handle and braces his feet to counter Allison's impressive driving. He gathers all the frenetic strands of his thoughts, bundles them together, and points them directly at that bright point of pain that is Dad, and thinks _hunt_.


End file.
